


A Night In The Tavern

by Mettaton_Ex



Series: Tales of Astria [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Dragonborn (D&D), Drunkenness, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Elves, It definitely won't be interesting to anyone outside of my campaign, M/M, Tieflings, not that that matters, writing about my dungeons and dragons campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mettaton_Ex/pseuds/Mettaton_Ex
Summary: Derrick can't handle his alcohol.-Part of a non-linear series of short stories based on the Dungeons and Dragons campaign I'm in, from the perspective of my uptight, sad, pretty elven bard, Derrick Von Herren. A lot of things (such as events, characters, places) that are referenced are out of context, but might be revisited and explained in later stories, if I feel like it.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: Tales of Astria [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774081
Kudos: 2





	A Night In The Tavern

If Derrick hated the days where the group camped in the dirty, dangerous wilderness, then he loved the days when they had nothing of note to do, other than spend some time in the towns or cities they found themselves passing through.  
  


For one, he had access to a bath. 

It was hard, near impossible even, to give his hair the proper care and consideration he felt it needed whilst on the road. Untangling the filth and foliage from his locks often became so tiresome, that he considered hacking it all off with the nearest sharpened object, if it meant it was easier to deal with until their visit to the next hospitable town or village. 

When he got to a town with a bathhouse, regardless of what he had gotten up to on the road, a deep clean was essential, and welcomed.  
  


There was also, regardless of the size of the town, a tavern where the group would stay. And where there was a tavern, there was alcohol.

He was never much of a drinker in the past, but he found that the longer he spent with this group of individuals, the more he found himself drinking alcohol of questionable quality and quantity. 

He would tell them that it was to _‘drown out the bullshit’_ that had occurred prior to sitting down at the table in the warm, bustling tavern- but really, it was because he enjoyed the company, and got carried away by the mood of the table, finding himself agreeing to all manner of shots and mystery spirits handed to him.   
  


But, he was… not particularly _good_ at holding his liquor.   
  


This was something that the rest of his associates had discovered after nights of him overdrinking, completely losing his filter, and regressing to a state that had since been dubbed 'Party Derrick'.

It was a state that Derrick tried to avoid, trying his best to maintain the facade that he was better than everyone else at the table, regardless of whether or not that was actually true.

Party Derrick was a more talkative, spontaneous, and altogether friendlier version of his sober counterpart, and sober Derrick hated him. Not so much because he was an embarrassment (although he _definitely_ was), but Party Derrick was the outgoing, interesting, and sociable person that regular Derrick couldn't be.

  
  


* * *

The elf traced the rim of his cup with his finger idly. Whatever the rest of the group was talking about was of no interest to him, because it was more to do with whatever quest the more righteous of the party had decided to take up on behalf of needy townsfolk, or whatever unsuspecting town official they had decided to invade the offices of and corral into letting them help. 

Not that Derrick fully approved, but he did find himself getting carried away and helping out. He had always been _exceedingly_ good at talking to people in authority (in lieu of talking to normal people, normally, like a normal person), and his background as a noble did come in handy when it took to people taking him a bit more seriously. 

Not always the people he _wanted_ to take him more seriously, though.

  
“...Derrick. Hey. Notes.” The voice from across the table roused the elf’s attention, as did the prod in the arm with a sharp nail. Derrick glanced up in time to see one of the tieflings in the group sitting back down after stretching to poke him. Cicho looked at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked and arms crossed over each other.

  
“Oh. Hmm?” Derrick straightened up in his seat, rubbing the area of his arm that he was jabbed in. He had _no_ idea what Cicho was talking about, because he was _not_ listening to whatever it was everyone else (bar, maybe, Garrett, who was quietly disassociating next to Cicho) was saying. “The notes. Yeah. The notes! What about the notes?” He could probably trick Cicho into believing that he had been listening the whole time. 

  
“You weren’t listening.” Cicho responded flatly. The purple tiefling never looked especially impressed with anything Derrick said, and right now was no exception. “You know when we all went out today to get info about the disappearances? The thing that took all day? The information that we were supposed to get? We split up and looked for clues and take notes to discuss later? Those notes?” The more Cicho spoke in her unimpressed tone, the deeper the frown that had appeared on Derrick’s face became. 

  
“I _know_ what notes you mean!” He huffed, rubbing the space in between his eyebrows. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get a wrinkle there, from the sheer frequency in which he furrowed his brow. “Let me just think.”

The group had gone out earlier in the day in pairs to investigate the disappearances that had happened in the town they had just stopped in. Cicho with Evan, Garrett with Dynas, and Derrick with Jurno. 

It wasn’t that Derrick hadn’t gotten any information during the day, it was just that he was…

_  
Distracted._

  
He wasn’t sure when it started. Whether it was the moment he saw them, or later down the line, when the butting of heads started, or maybe when they kissed him in a spontaneous, drunken attempt to rescue him from a guard’s unwanted advances, but Derrick had become very conscious of Jurno. 

There was no doubting, not at all, that Jurno was good looking. And as an artist, Derrick had no _choice_ but to respect that. High cheekbones, a toned, but lithe stomach, that _smirk_ , the almost unconscious way in which they perfectly held themselves, the sharp, bright laugh they had when they _knew_ that they had gotten Derrick right where they wanted him-- no. No, no, no. It was not the time nor the place for whatever _this_ was. 

  
He glanced at Jurno, sitting next to him, and found them already watching him with an inquisitive expression. Derrick flicked his eyes away and felt his face warm up. 

The elf ignored the way he could feel Jurno’s eyes still on him as he recounted the information the two had gathered that the rest of them didn’t already know, keeping it brief, and refusing to recount any of the social faux pas that he _apparently_ made that day. 

Jurno made no secret in teasing him about how out of touch with people he was when he spoke to others, and now funny they found it that he could go from charming to hilariously clumsy in one fell swoop.

  
Thankfully, Jurno didn’t interject, or do anything outside of watch him and wait for him to finish speaking. Which he did, eventually, and he relished the moment that the conversation moved on and he was no longer responsible for handing out important information. This sense of responsibility was a fairly new experience for Derrick; even when he left Sylandris, he lived a fairly cushy, easy life in Thransdia without any real worries or pressing issues he felt he needed to sort out.

  
“You weren’t especially prepared for that, were you?” The voice next to him chimed, helpfully. “You could have listened.”

_  
Oh, good._

  
Derrick looked at Jurno, scowling. The tiefling (the one that wasn’t currently approaching the bar to get more drinks) gave a wide smirk, arms crossed and leaning back in their seat. Any flustered embarrassment that Derrick had once felt was replaced, now, by a feeling of moderate frustration. 

  
“That is _really_ helpful and enlightening of you, thank you.” He said sharply. “I didn’t see you saying anything, and you were with me the entire time!”

  
“Yes, I know. I thought you’d be able to hold your own.” The smirk stayed on Jurno’s face, but it lessened somewhat, and if Derrick didn’t suspect better, he’d have sworn that they were being genuine. “And you did, eventually. But next time, I can always fill everyone in on how much of an idiot you were, if that helps.”

  
Derrick had made a woman they were speaking to cry through his own incompetence and social obliviousness, when he had only been _trying_ to be nice. He felt mortified, and even if the woman told him it was okay, he still felt mercilessly embarrassed and guilty, which certainly wasn’t helped with Jurno taking the first opportunity that they were out of the earshot of the woman to laugh at him, and bring it up again now. 

  
“No!” Derrick hissed, loud enough that the others, who were chatting amongst themselves, glanced over to look at them both. The elf felt his face burning again. Jurno looked like they were trying to suppress a laugh. " _Don't._ "

  
“What’s the problem?” Dynas, the dragonborn sat next to Jurno asked, his larger frame making the flagon of ale in his claws look far smaller by comparison. On the one hand, Derrick was relieved that Dynas had noticed and could potentially be on his side in this, but on the other hand, how would Morally Righteous Dynas react if he found out that Derrick had made someone cry? 

Above all else, he couldn’t bear the idea of making Dynas upset with him. 

Derrick glanced at Jurno, brows furrowed and trying to convey a _‘don’t tell him’_ through his eyes to the tiefling. Dynas, meanwhile, flicked his eyes from Jurno, then to Derrick, and back to Jurno again.

  
“Oh…” Jurno began, glancing at the elf, smile widening, and then directing their gaze to the dragonborn. It was suspicious, as if there was a joke or a secret he wasn’t in on. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. “It’s nothing.” 

_  
Shithead._

  
The dragonborn hummed, and by this point in their friendship, Derrick was able to recognise a sort of amused expression on the other’s face. 

_  
They’re definitely conspiring against me._

  
Derrick’s expression of contempt deepened and he poured himself another cup of wine, ignoring the looks on both Jurno and Dynas’ faces.

_  
Bastards._

* * *

The evening grew to night, and Derrick found himself unwinding a little. His scowl softened and the furrowed brow relaxed, and if you caught him unawares, you might even see a smile.

Not that he'd ever willingly smile, it had to be off guard. It was wide and crooked, and a dimple showed in his cheek, and as a child he was told how silly it looked. 

  
Still, he was smiling a lot tonight.

  
By this time, Evan and Cicho had retired to one of the two rooms that they had booked for the night, and Garrett , being Garrett, had steadily gravitated to the bar, and at the end of this, it was only Derrick, Dynas, and Jurno left at the table. They had been talking about something that happened earlier in the day, something funny that they had seen and had developed a spiel of stupid jokes from. 

  
"More drinks? Shall we get more?" Derrick asked, the faint blush of intoxication dusting over his cheeks as he poured the last drop of wine into his cup. The other two, of course, agreed. 

  
Dynas stood, the floorboards under him groaning as he began to take a step away from the table, when he stopped. "Are y’okay? That's...what, two bottles to yourself? Plus shots? I ain't an expert on how much it takes to put anyone your size under the table but… well, not like I'm any better, is it?" The dragonborn huffed out a laugh to himself, watching for Derrick's reaction.

  
"You are drinking, like… a lot." Jurno agreed. It wasn't like they were any better, they had begun to slur their words ever so slightly, and was beginning to get more openly touchy than they usually were, touching Derrick's arm and plaiting his long copper hair. 

It was nothing to dwell on, though, since Jurno was usually the same with Dynas.

  
Derrick tutted, but there was no malice in his voice like there would usually be. 

"Oh, please. Are either of you my mother? I'm an adult, I can do what I like." As if to prove a point, he drained the last of the wine, slamming the cup down triumphantly. Dynas laughed, and moved to get another round.

  
"Your mother would probably tell you off for drinking cheap wine destined for peasants." Jurno quipped, brushing out a poorly made plait from the elf's hair and starting another. 

  
"Well… yes, I suppose she would." He laughed, amused at the sheer absurdity of the situation. If his mother could see him now, where he was and the _company_ he kept, she'd… well, she'd probably cry.

  
"...Maybe you _should_ slow down, though. You always drink too much, and then you do something stupid." Jurno warned, glancing to the bar to see where Dynas was with the drinks. The dragonborn was leaning on the bar, chatting up the barmaid and seemingly having the time of his life. 

  
" _Stupid_ ?" Derrick echoed incredulously. Stupid? Him? _Never_ ! "Since when have I _ever_ done something stupid while drunk?" 

  
"Oh, nothing big. Just a constant and steady stream of bullshit. Just things to embarrass yourself with." There was the trace of a smile on Jurno's lips, and their sharp golden eyes were trained on Derrick's face.

  
"Are you making fun of me?" He asked, suspiciously, turning his body in the chair to face Jurno better. 

  
The small smile broke into a wide one, and their hands left his hair, leaving a half finished, already unravelling braid resting on his shoulder. 

  
"No, why would I ever?" The tiefling remained just as close as ever, and if Derrick didn't know any better, he'd take this as an invitation for… something. He wasn't sure. 

  
"Like you can talk about anything-- weren't you the one who embarrassed yourself by kissing me to put that guard off. Do you remember that master plan?" Derrick grinned triumphantly. This'd show them, they'd be _so_ embarrassed about being reminded about this, and it'd put Derrick back on top.

  
"I'm not sure that I remember...can you show me what you mean?" Jurno's smile maintained, and from the corner of his eye he could see Jurno's hand slide over to Derrick's own on the table, fingertips brushing over the glinting metal and gemstones of his rings. From the looks of that smirk (the one that Derrick was totally fixated on), they knew exactly what Derrick meant. Were they teasing him?

  
Moreover, why did he quite like it? 

  
"Oh, I. Uh…" He was _definitely_ red now, and he couldn't blame that on the wine. He wasn't sure if he should pull his hand away, or get closer, or...or…

  
"Drinks!" Or nothing. Dynas had returned with… something? A bottle of something and some glasses, and what looked to be a triumphant expression on his face. Smoothly, Jurno pulled their hand away. Derrick was frozen in position, looking bewildered, and red, and feeling like an idiot. 

  
Reaching out for the bottle to uncork it and sniff the liquid, Jurno recoiled at the smell and put it down on the table. "Oh, jeez." They grimaced. "Dynas, what _is_ this?"

  
"Dunno!" The dragonborn sat down and began to pour glasses. "I asked for something for me and my friends, and this is what she gave me. It's some small batch stuff. Moonshine? Hooch? Somethin' like that." 

  
"I'm not even sure if that's fit for consumption, Dynas." The tiefling responded, eyeing the liquid.

  
Wordlessly, Derrick reached for a shot and necked it, coughing when the burning hit and the sharp smell of alcohol filled his nose. 

"Oh, gods." The elf groaned, covering his face with his hands. "That's disgusting."

But, it did distract from the embarrassment and uncertainty he had felt, replacing the butterflies in his stomach instead with the warmth of the drink.

  
"Do you see what I mean when I say you do stupid things?" 

  
Derrick couldn't even deny it. That was a stupid thing to do. 

  
Didn’t mean he was going to stop.


End file.
